Tripping Through The Universe [Anthology]

314 Pages·2016·0.9 MB·English

by  Fisher Ellen

TRIPPING THROUGH THE UNIVERSE
With stories by
Ellen Fisher
Jaide Fox
Ashley Ladd
Shelley Munro

Farthest Space: The Wrath of Jan © copyright August 2005, Ellen Fisher
Earth Girls Aren’t Easy © copyright August 2005, Jaide Fox
Fully Functional © copyright August 2005, Ashley Ladd
Interplanetary Love © copyright August 2005, Shelley Munro
Cover art by Eliza Black, © copyright August 2005
ISBN 1-58608-597-2
New Concepts Publishing
Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s
imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons
or events is merely coincidence.
FARTHEST SPACE:
The Wrath of Jan

By

Ellen Fisher
Chapter One
His new communications officer was blue-skinned.
All over.
Captain Steven T. McNeill’s eyes widened slightly as he took in the sight of his
new officer. She was quite lovely, if you didn’t object to an extra set of arms, and
her long, midnight blue hair flowed down her back in a rippling waterfall, almost
to her rounded derriere. For the sake of his concentration, he couldn’t help but
wish it flowed down her front instead. Unfortunately, her species, the Noo’dis’t,
believed clothes were an abomination and an affront to nature, and they refused
to wear clothing under any circumstances. There was absolutely no question she
was pale blue all over, from the crown of her head to the tips of her dainty little...
“The decks have already been swabbed once today, Captain.”
At his second-in-command’s dry comment, Steven’s head whipped around. He
found Commander Vaish watching him through steely eyes. “I beg your pardon,
Number One?”
“Your tongue, sir. It was hanging nearly to the deck. I thought perhaps you
intended to begin scrubbing the floor with it.”
Anyone else would have made that comment with a touch of humor, but not
Vaish. If she had a sense of humor, he’d never located it. She was a beautiful
woman too, and the alien cast of her features only added to her distinctiveness,
yet her stunning beauty gave the impression of having been carved out of a
glacier. Her pale lavender hair was always pulled up tightly at the back of her
head, displaying her pointed ears, and her strange, slanted eyes, an unearthly
shade of yellow, never showed the slightest flicker of emotion.
“My tongue was not...” Steven began, then thought better of it. His tongue
probably had been hanging out of his mouth. When a man saw a gorgeous set of
forward blasters, blue-skinned or otherwise, he couldn’t really be expected not to
look, could he?
He got more of an eyeful than he expected when his new communications officer
marched toward him and saluted smartly, causing her right breast to jiggle in a
very interesting way. Her left breast rippled too, presumably just to keep the
right one company. He stood up hastily and returned the salute.
“Lieutenant S’ansi reporting for duty, sir!”
He frowned for a moment, reflecting that he’d reviewed the new duty roster
yesterday, and he somehow recalled that S’ansi was a human male. Evidently
there was either a problem with the records, or a flaw in his memory. Not that it
mattered. He wasn’t sorry in the least to discover S’ansi was female.
He smiled at her warmly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant.”
Beside him he heard Vaish’s low, sardonic voice. “Of course it is.”
He was a little irritated by her insinuating tone. As if he’d ever have sex with a
colleague. Although he’d made love to a Noo’dis’t woman once before, three
years ago, and he had to admit the four arms definitely added to the experience.
His thoughts started drifting as he recalled exactly what Noo’dis’t women did
with those extra arms.
“Do other humans drool on such a regular basis?” Vaish inquired coolly.
I wasn’t drooling, Steven thought. Although the front of his uniform did seem a
bit damp. He made a mental note that there must be a problem with the
environmental controls.
“You need to report in four units,” he said to S’ansi, ignoring Vaish and her
acerbic tone. They’d worked together for five years, and he’d learned to ignore
her snide comments. Mostly. “In the meantime, why don’t you look around the
Arisia a bit? Get settled in?”
“I’d like that, sir,” she said, smiling back at him in a way that exposed her sharp,
feline teeth. “It’s a beautiful ship.”
“Best ship in the Fleet,” he said gruffly. He was lucky to be captain of the Fleet’s
flagship, and he knew it. The Arisia, dark gray and almost spherical but for the
wings and tail that were used to maneuver through atmosphere when the ship
landed on a planet, was home to two hundred and fifty of the Patrol’s best
officers. He was proud of his crew, and he loved every inch of the graceful,
massive ship, from her smoothly curved hull to her efficient, hard-working
engines.
The Arisia was more than a starship. It was home.
“Best captain in the Fleet as well,” S’ansi said, still smiling.
Beside him Steven heard a noise he was almost certain was a snort of disgust.
But when he turned his head to look at Vaish, her face was as calm and
composed as ever.
“You have the bridge, Number One,” he said. “I’ll show Lieutenant S’ansi to her
quarters.”
“Naturally,” Vaish said under her breath.
“I beg your pardon?”
Vaish sat down in the big central chair and looked up at him, her yellow eyes
unblinking. “I said of course, sir.”

Vaish watched as Captain McNeill strode away, across the wide, circular bridge.
He was a sight to command any woman’s attention--tall and muscular, with
golden hair falling free to his broad shoulders. And his powerful back tapered
down to an incredible ass, she reflected, looking at the smooth, graceful motion
of his buttocks displayed by his tight-fitting black pants.
Of course, she thought, it was totally appropriate that the man had a nice ass.
The man was an ass.
Not that she would ever say so to his face. She was a professional, after all, and
she prided herself on maintaining a certain cool detachment. But she
remembered the way he’d practically drooled over the Noo’dis’t woman, the
way his eyes had fastened onto her like a tractor field grabbing onto a vessel, and
she almost growled with annoyance. The man had absolutely no sense of
chastity, of self-control. He’d sleep with anything female.
Except, of course, for her.
Not that she wanted to have sex with Steven T. McNeill, she amended hastily. In
fact, the thought was utterly revolting. Repulsive, even. Yes, definitely, that was
the word... repulsive.
And yet it was mildly annoying to be aware that he’d served with her for five
years and never noticed that she was female.
She realized she was still staring toward the lift, into which his gorgeous butt had
disappeared, and she turned hastily toward the viewscreen before the bridge
crew noticed her preoccupation, fixing her most professional, cold, and
impassive look onto her features.
It wasn’t as if she had the slightest interest as to what Captain McNeill planned
to do with his new communications officer.
She really didn’t care in the least.

As he walked with S’ansi through the immaculate, white-walled corridors of the
Arisia, McNeill noticed that the view from behind was just as impressive as the
view from the front. In fact, he decided with the objectivity of a connoisseur, she
was pretty damned impressive from all angles. He wouldn’t mind getting a
closer look at her from a few more angles, he thought. It was really too bad he
never slept with colleagues.
Not that he’d ever permitted respect for a colleague to stop him from looking,
especially when the colleague in question was stark naked. He might be a
professional, but he wasn’t dead.
They reached her quarters, and he pressed his palm against the silver panels of
the door. It slid open smoothly, but with a sound that was reminiscent of a wolf
whistle. McNeill looked reprovingly at the metal plates of the ceiling.
“Fred,” he said. “Be polite.”
“What?” answered a disembodied voice. “I’ve got eyes, you know.”
“You do not.”
“Well, cameras, then. You can’t blame a guy for looking.”
No, he couldn’t, particularly when his own cameras had been pointed squarely
in the same direction as Fred’s. McNeill shot an apologetic glance at S’ansi, not
sure whether he was apologizing for Fred’s behavior or his own. “Our computer,
FRD-280. Better known as Fred. He has certain, ah, lascivious tendencies.”
“You programmed me,” Fred reminded him.
McNeill felt his cheeks flush slightly. “Yes. Well. Do try to be polite to our
newest crew member, will you?”
“Is she our newest crew member?” Fred paused for a moment. “I don’t have her
in the database.”
“We were expecting a new communications officer,” Steven reminded him.
Which was absurd. He shouldn’t have to remind Fred of anything.
“Yes, but that was a human male. Correct me if I’m wrong, but this doesn’t look
like a human male to me.”
Steven couldn’t argue with that. He shrugged, remembering his own brief
surprise at S’ansi’s appearance. He had been right; she was listed in the database
as a human male. A vague sensation of unease niggled at the back of his brain,
but he pushed it back. He’d had a bad experience with the one Noo’dis’t woman,
three years before, and the memory made him suspicious of Noo’dis’ts in
general. But their species was a loyal part of the Alliance, so his reaction was
entirely unwarranted.
“Some sort of mix-up, Fred,” he said soothingly. “It happens all the time.”
“No one informed me of a mix-up,” Fred grumbled.
“Hence the term mix-up, Fred. It’s not the kind of thing people usually organize
in advance.” Steven smiled reassuringly at S’ansi, who’d been listening to their
conversation, a charmingly anxious expression on her face. “You are certain
your papers showed you aboard the Arisia, Lieutenant?”
“Oh, absolutely,” she said earnestly. “But I don’t have my papers on my person.”
Steven had already figured that out. “I imagine they’re in your luggage?”
She nodded.
“Well, that should be in your quarters. Let’s take a look.”
He followed her into her quarters, the small, stark sort of room allotted to most
members of the crew. Despite their starkness, the quarters were almost painfully
clean, right down to the spotless white carpet. Fred’s drones kept every
centimeter of the big vessel utterly free of dust and dirt.
Sure enough, her luggage was already on the narrow bed, brought down by the
shuttle operator who’d transported her on board. She reached into her large
duffel bag and began to rummage. “I know they’re in here somewhere.”
Steven wondered exactly why she had so much luggage, considering her people
never wore clothes, but he guessed it was better not to ask. Who knew what
women kept in their bags? He suspected most of them didn’t really know either.
While he waited, he amused himself by watching the way her breasts swung
gently as she bent over and dug through her belongings.
“Ah-ha!” she said triumphantly. “Here it is!”
Absorbed as he was in the fascinating sight of her breasts jiggling, Steven never
saw the particle weapon she shot him with.